


What A Night For A Fright

by MadnessofVoid



Series: Sterek Week 2018 [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, Everyone Is Alive, Gen, Haunted Houses, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Scooby Doo References, Scooby Wolf, Sterek Week 2018, in case anyone needs a warning for that, ish, mannequins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-07 17:58:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16413185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadnessofVoid/pseuds/MadnessofVoid
Summary: “Why are we making sure this house isn't haunted?” Isaac asked with a raised brow.“Because she is trying to sell the place. And there are rumors of weird stuff happening on the property. We're used to weird stuff.”“Last I checked, Scott, we're not in the business of looking for ghosts that may or may not exist. For all we know it is just some dude in a mask. And, again, last I checked, Roscoe is not the Mystery Machine and Derek isn't Scooby.” deadpanned Stiles.





	What A Night For A Fright

**Author's Note:**

> Sterek Week is finally here! *cheers* And I actually got things finished! Unlike my fail run during Sterek Bingo...
> 
> Anywho...
> 
> Day One: Scooby Wolf

“You told your mom we'd do what now?”

 

It had been a week, okay? Every single day Stiles woke up, it became one of _those_ days. The kind where whatever could go wrong, _did_ go wrong. He was honestly sick of it and wanted it to be over. But no. Scott had to call every single pack member over to Derek's fancy new apartment (that he helped pick out, shhh, secret) for some huge meeting. And instead...

 

“She asked if we could take a look at this lady's deceased grandma's house.” Scott repeated, shrugging like it was no big deal. “Make sure it isn't haunted.”

 

Stiles bit the inside of his cheek, eyes narrowing. Uh-huh. Check out a dead old lady's house for ghosts. Pretty sure that was not the job of the pack. No, scratch that, he was pretty damned sure it _wasn't_ the job of the pack to hunt ghosts. That was shit for those dudes on Ghost Adventures, and The Ghost Brothers, and all those other ghost hunting shows. Not a pack of supernaturals! (And a hunter.)

 

“Why are we making sure this house isn't haunted?” Isaac asked with a raised brow.

 

“Because she is trying to sell the place. And there are rumors of weird stuff happening on the property. We're used to weird stuff.”

 

“Last I checked, Scott, we're not in the business of looking for ghosts that may or may not exist. For all we know it is just some dude in a mask. And, again, last I checked, Roscoe is not the Mystery Machine and Derek isn't Scooby.” deadpanned Stiles.

 

“Why is Derek Scooby?” questioned Erica. “If anything, _Scott_ would be the Scooby to your Shaggy.”

 

“No, he's Freddy. He comes up with more crap plans that usually winds up with Derek and myself, more often than not, as bait of some kind.”

 

Scott was the only one to argue that. (If one honestly wanted to count a huge pout as an argument.) Hell, even Derek sat there, thinking about it, before shrugging and nodding in agreement. Which, yeah, he better have agreed with Stiles! Especially since the last time they encountered something supernatural, Scott's plan required both Stiles and Derek to lure the problem to the others via a botched mating ritual.

 

Still had nightmares about that...

 

Even if that's what finally got the two to get their heads out of their asses, and finally get together.

 

Lydia heaved a sigh, tapping her manicured nails against the table in agitation. “I'm siding with Stiles on this one. We are not in an old episode of Scooby-Doo. We are not experienced in catching so-called ghosts. And honestly, if this friend of your mom's is honestly worried about some ghosts or weirdos roaming around the property, she should call for experts. Not us.”

 

“We are _technically_ experts in anything supernatural.” Kira pointed out.

 

“There isn't anything in the bestiary on how to deal with ghosts.” said Allison with a small smile. “Ghouls are in there, but they are more different than you'd think.”

 

“Oh. Well...guess we aren't experts when it comes to _haunted_ supernatural things. Just the normal stuff that usually tries to kill us.”

 

Scott let out a huff, crossing his arms over his chest tight. Looked like a little kid pouting about not getting their way. Stiles would think it was cute, maybe take a picture as some form of blackmail (not really) for a special occasion...but this week was not kind to him so he wasn't going to be either. This was not cute and picture material. This was a nice, big, neon sign of annoyance to add to the hell he had been dealing with.

 

“C'mon, guys! I already told my mom we would help!”

 

There was a pause. A short time to process those words. Then...

 

“You did _what_?” came Derek's voice, sounding tense and faintly furious.

 

“You didn't give us an option.” Boyd stated flatly, seemingly not the least bit surprised.

 

Erica glowered, lips pursed. “Seriously, Scott? I thought we were past this type of behavior, hon? You ask us first, make sure we don't have plans, make sure we're okay with this, and _then_ you tell people we will help.”

 

“And none of us want to help.” Isaac added.

 

“Guess we have no choice now.” sighed Lydia, her nails now tapping on the table to the tune of a death march.

 

“I'm sure we don't _all_ have to go!” Kira piped in, trying to nervously smooth things over. “ _Right_ , Scott?”

 

Scott shook his head, standing his ground and keeping up the pout. “It's a large place. Mom best described it as a mansion. We'll all have to go.”

 

“This is starting to sound like Scooby-Doo for real...” grumbled Allison.

 

“Look, I'm sorry, okay?! But...I felt bad for this lady. She doesn't want it because her grandma died in that house. And she's scared because neighbors have said they've seen some weird stuff around there!”

 

“So call the cops!” Stiles barked. “Not a bunch of teenagers and a solo adult!”

 

“Technically -”

 

“No! No technically statements! _You_ made a decision for the pack as a whole! _You_ didn't consult anyone! _You_ made this bed! _You_ lie in it! We are _not_ going! Absolutely no one! At all! Nope! Nada! Nuh-uh! You have been vetoed! We are _not_ going on this little ghost hunt! And that's _final_!”

 

**~+~**

 

They ended up going.

 

Because no one knew how to tell Scott 'no' for long.

 

And Stiles was the driver. Because of course he fucking was.

 

All they needed were the seventies clothes, Roscoe getting a makeover, Derek in wolf form, and bam! They would literally be Scooby and the gang. Just with a few more members. And with a supernatural twist.

 

Scott owed him big for this. _Big_ big!

 

(Actually, he owed Derek. Because Stiles would've kept his foot down this time if it weren't for Derek talking him into going. And by talking him into going, he meant Derek promising a look at the new collection of books that had been accumulated on the supernatural and other mystical crap. Goddamn his slutiness for books on those subjects!)

 

“How much further till we get there?” asked Erica. “I love sitting on Boyd's lap and all, but my ass is falling asleep.”

 

“Not to mention it's crowded.” Isaac echoed.

 

“We could've taken another mode of transportation...” Stiles growled. “But _someone_ had to get in an accident and have their mom van admitted into the shop!”

 

Derek snorted, rolling his eyes. “Bitch to the asshole that t-boned my 'mom' van – not me.”

 

“Don't tempt him.” Allison groaned. “Please.”

 

“But seriously, Scott...how much longer until we get there?” grumbled Kira, looking bored and ready to peel right out of her skin, which was so unlike her.

 

Just as Scott opened his mouth to answer with the biggest exasperated expression he could muster, the eerie canopy of trees overhead faded and their destination came into view. Stiles nearly slammed the breaks the very second they all laid their sights on it. Yeah, it was a mansion, all right. Big. Dark. Covered in moss. Massive iron gates. Bats fluttering away. The sky grim and gray, despite the forecast insisting that it was going to be a sunny scorcher. Dead trees and other foliage.

 

When Roscoe had come to a full and complete stop, all eyes fell on Scott. None of them the least bit amused.

 

“Wooooow...” clicked Lydia. “This place looks so _familiar_.”

 

Scott rolled his eyes, pushing open the back door and crawling out. Had to make a quick exit with the heated stares, after all. The rest of the pack shared a look with each other, silently plotting to leave Scott behind should things get hairy. The guy signed them all up for this shit without asking – he should suffer at least a little.

 

It was Boyd that broke the silence between them.

 

“Let's get this over with.”

 

Everyone muttered their agreement, piling out in an uncharacteristically smooth fashion. Once on solid ground, Scott rounded to the front, clearly taking charge of this whole thing. Which made sense since this was **_his_** idea. Derek glanced at Stiles, brows knitted together in some sort of knowing. The older wolf held up his hand and started counting down to something. And once he hit one -

 

“Okay guys...we should split up.” Scott suggested seriously.

 

 _And there it is_ passed by Derek with a sweep of his hand. Stiles let out a groan, which was proceeded by a few others from who knows who. Though he was pretty certain one of them was at least Isaac.

 

Scott's nose scrunched up, and that damn pout made a come back. “C'mon guys! This place is _huge_! We have to split up to cover more ground!”

 

“Sure...” snipped Erica. “Whatever you say, _Freddy_...”

 

“Mom's friend gave me the layout of this place, so I know just how we're gonna do it. Isaac, Kira, and myself are going to cover the backyard. It's pretty big, so that's going to need the most people.”

 

“It's gonna be a labyrinth. Bet ya ten bucks.” whispered Isaac, which earned an aggravated sigh from Kira.

 

“Erica and Boyd – you get the ground level. Allison and Lydia – you get the second floor. Stiles and Derek – you get the basement.”

 

Of course they get the _worse_ area in the place! Why wouldn't they?! It was Stiles and Derek, after all! When it came to having good luck, they only had it during poker night. Any other time and day was free game!

 

(It was also their luck that out of all the homes in California, _this one_ just had to have a damn basement.)

 

“Okay! Should be simple enough!” finished Scott in the most chipper tone imaginable.

 

It was almost an insult with how happy it sounded. A mockery towards the pain the rest of the pack felt.

 

Without another word, Scott dragged Isaac and Kira with him towards the wrought iron gate, ignoring blissfully his two partners humming an ever so familiar theme. The rest of the 'gang' stood rooted by the Jeep, glowering sourly.

 

“I'm guessing he expects us to just...figure out the layout of this place by ourselves?” Allison said, tone clipped.

 

“Yep.” muttered Boyd.

 

Erica heaved a sigh, tapping her boot in annoyance. “We have to get back at him sometime. Get him back good.”

 

“I bet Stiles has fifty different ideas already.” Derek mused, a wry smirk spreading across his lips.

 

Stiles scoffed, pretending to be offended. “It's like you know me so well, Scoob.”

 

“I will shove you down the stairs if you call me that again.”

 

“No you won't. You like this ass too much.” He placed his hands on hips, eyes skyward and about another fifty set of revenge ideas flooded his brain. “Well...come on, _gang_. We have a mystery to solve.”

 

Lydia rolled her eyes, followed by clicking her tongue with zero ounce of humor. “Jinkies.”

 

**~+~**

 

Okay...the basement wasn't...too bad?

 

Mostly covered in cobwebs and dust. Had pretty decent lighting. They didn't even need to use Stiles' flashlight he brought along as a safety precaution. Then again, if he had forgotten it, which was not probable in any sense, they could have always used Derek's glowstick eyes as light! Would have taken some convincing, but Derek would have eventually given in. Always did when it came to Stiles and his _irresistible_ fluttery eyelashes move.

 

Anyways...

 

Basement. Not so bad. A cake walk.

 

If no one was counting the hoards of _mannequins_.

 

“I would say that this woman's grandmother was a clothing designer...” said Derek in a way that was akin to being dead on the inside. “But that would be a lie. And not plausible with our luck.”

 

Stiles sputtered and flailed, having bumped into the twelfth mannequin in the span of two minutes. “Wha-what?! Derek Samuel Hale! How could you?! Judging a poor, dead, old woman! Sh-she could have been a clothing designer!”

 

The hike of the ever expressive eyebrows made it very hard not to laugh. It really did.

 

“Fiiiine. I don't believe she was a clothing designer. I think she was some creepy old hag who had way too much time on her hands. Who was obsessed with mannequins. And had no business having a place this fucking big. And lady of the house, if you are actually here, please do not haunt my ass. You will be traumatized with the amount of libido that exists in one body.”

 

“I know I am...”

 

Stiles swatted Derek on the shoulder for that. Really only served him a sore hand and nothing else. But at least it felt good! In a way! Derek snorted, rolling his eyes and pressed onward, somehow still expecting to find something in this basement. Which, no. No ghosts. Just a shit ton of mannequins.

 

Creepy, faceless, lifeless mannequins...

 

“Soooo...think we have seen enough of the basement?”

 

Derek paused, pretending to mull it over. With another eye roll, he shrugged. “Yep.”

 

“Thank god! If I had to spend one more second in this hole in the ground, I was going to go nuts!”

 

“You were going to do that in front of an audience?”

 

“Oh, har har. Wolf's got jokes. I sometimes miss it when you were all scowls and growls. At least you still sometimes only communicate via the caterpillars above your eyes.”

 

On queue, Derek's brows narrowed, saying how not amused he was at the comment. Stiles just sharply laughed, waving in their direction.

 

“Like that! Ahhh...and all was right with the world.”

 

The wolf's nostrils flared as he huffed. He was about to make some sort of comeback, which, okay, bring it on, Stiles was still the champ, thank you very much, (and with the shitacular week he had been having he could come back with some good shit) but something stopped him. Something made those gorgeous eyes widen in terror.

 

Stiles let out a whine, hanging his head in defeat. “Please tell me the mannequins behind me aren't _moving_...”

 

“Okay...the mannequins behind you aren't moving...”

 

With another whine, Stiles decided to face it. Rip it off like a bandaid. He glanced over his shoulder, gulping a bit too loudly. Sure enough, the onslaught of mannequins behind him were moving. Ever so slowly. Limbs outstretched and carved on mouths cracked open. Seeing this, he turned to face Derek, knowing full well what his expression was.

 

“All right, big guy...start running?”

 

Derek nodded, gulping just as loud. “Start running.”

 

In the most dignified manner they both could possibly muster...Stiles and Derek shrieked at the top of their lungs, and made a break for it. Turns out that was a lot easier said than done. Especially when the mannequins in front of them started moving, too. Didn't take long for plastic limbs to snag them, trying to keep them prisoner. Derek snarled, claws out and slashing at every single limb attached to him the best he could. Stiles, meanwhile, was screaming (pun intended) like a banshee.

 

Hearing feet bolting down the stairs was relief in sound. Seeing Erica and Boyd halt in the middle of the stairs was relief personified.

 

“Oh my god! Erica! Boyd! Help! Please!” begged Stiles shrilly.

 

Erica took one look at the hoard, paled, and shook her head furiously. “Nuh-uh! You guys are on your own!”

 

“ERIIIICAAAAAAAAAA!”

 

“Later!”

 

And with that, she was out. Boyd lingered for a moment, too bewildered to really understand what in the hell was going on. Once it seemed to connect that Stiles and Derek were in trouble and being attacked by sentient mannequins, he let out the most resigned sigh. Then, like a good friend, he jumped into the fray and tried to save their asses.

 

Instead he got tangled up like they had.

 

Stiles had never heard such a set of vocabulary from good ol' Boyd.

 

Moments later, there were more thundering footsteps. Shortly after, Lydia and Allison came into view. And they stood there, dumbfounded. Well, Allison stood dumbfounded. Lydia looked as resigned as Boyd has sounded before his plunge.

 

“Okay. I have now seen everything.” Lydia mumbled.

 

“What the hell is going on here?!” exclaimed Allison, patting her person for a weapon that might be suitable for this situation.

 

“Fuckery of the upmost caliber, that's what's going on here!” Stiles shrieked.

 

“Why are there so many mannequins?!”

 

“Think about that later! Get us out of here!”

 

“How?!”

 

“I don't know!”

 

“Your shouting isn't helping!” Derek snapped.

 

“Oh, and your pretty claws are?!”

 

“More than what you've been doing!”

 

“Flirt later.” barked Lydia, digging in her purse. “I'll see if I can find anything in the bestiary about disposing of possessed objects.  Hopefully there will be a passage specifically about mannequins. And Stiles...maybe you should, oh, I don't know, try using some of that _magic_ of yours, hmm?”

 

Oh. Lydia was funny. Lydia had jokes. Too bad Stiles was too busy fighting off plastic bodies trying to maul him to laugh! As she flipped through the pages of the mini bestiary, Allison dove right in, getting about as far as Derek and Boyd were with their claws with her Chinese daggers.

 

And of course, because this was the pack they were talking about, Scott, Kira, and Isaac stumbled on in, caked in mud and leaves.

 

“Guys! You won't believe this! There are suits of armor outside trying to kill us and – oh my god...” Scott stared in awe at the scene before them. “Uhhhh...hey. This place is haunted.”

 

“No shit, Sherlock!” spat the four trapped in the sea of plastic.

 

“Or its possessed.” Kira supplied weakly. “Like Rose Red.”

 

“I don't think that makes the situation any better.” Isaac grimaced.

 

“What do we do?” asked Scott, sounding borderline panicky.

 

“I'm working on it.” hissed Lydia, still flipping through the pages. “Since Stiles isn't being helpful. Still too spooked to use his magic. Even after all that encouragement from his boy toy.”

 

“I am right _here_!” Stiles hollered. “And so is Derek!”

 

“Oh good. Maybe he could convince you to actually tap into that witchiness of yours.”

 

“Magic is a bitch, Lydia!”

 

“As much as what is currently being a bitch?”

 

“ _Yes_!”

 

“ _ **No**_.” Derek growled.

 

“T-traitor! I trusted you!”

 

“Look, I'll fucking _carry_ you after! Give you a goddamn _piggyback_! Just suck it up and do it!”

 

“Fine! But you owe me so many buckets of ice cream after this! _And_ I get to eat it _while_ reading you new books!”

 

“Deals later – magic _now_ , Stiles!” ordered Allison.

 

“Okay!”

 

He grumbled some few choice words under his breath, forcing his body to stop fighting against his plastic attackers and go rigid. It was going to be difficult, trying to harness that much magic to put everything on pause long enough for them to skip out and get an expert in here. Like Deaton. Guy probably has seen enough shit in his time. More seasoned with magic, too. Well, Druid magic. Which was different than a witch's. Details! Problems for future Stiles!

 

“Ancient evil, get thee hence -”

 

The collective groans and snarls of his name was well worth it. One small act of defiance before he became wiped out, unable to produce any of his usual wit and charm. Possibly freak his dad out once wind of this was passed around.

 

All right. No more procrastinating. Time to do this.

 

As Stiles was being dragged to the floor, Derek spatting out his name in a mixture of panic and frustration, the magic started to bubble. He muttered the one big incantation he bothered to memorize, the words barely sounding like words. Said a silent prayer between them, hoping that he wouldn't be knocked into a coma this time around.

 

And then came the boom.

 

It was like a contained explosion – hitting only what needed to be hit. A pop and crack sound flooded his ears, followed by the ever familiar sting of electricity and stench of ozone. He began to writhe from the energy and...essence...that was being drained from him. His fists balled tight as more and more was being sapped away. It felt like he was...struggling with something. Something he couldn't see. Something that definitely did not like him stopping the attacking forces. It pushed back, pressing hard against his skull. Pretty sure he made some sort of noise in exertion and pain, because he felt Derek's clawed fingers suddenly wrapped around his wrists like he was offering some sort of lifeline.

 

Which... _worked_.

 

Whatever was fighting against Stiles dissipated, and his instincts whispered that it was done. There were no more inanimate objects moving about. He let out a strangled gasp, body arching before it collapsed. Just...collapsed. He could hear the pack calling out for him, asking if he was okay. Heard Erica race back in, demanding to know if Stiles had just used magic. Because out of all the things Stiles told her no about, his not using magic because if he wasn't careful enough (which when was he ever, to be honest) it could kill him was the one thing she clung to and _enforced_.

 

“M'kay...” he got out, sounding a bit slurred.

 

“At least you didn't pass out this time...” Derek chuckled, arms already positioning to scoop up the fledgling witch.

 

“Nope...m'still 'wake. Pr'tty sore...”

 

“I'll make you a bath when we get back to the apartment.”

 

“Ugh...bubbles...”

 

“Yes. With bubbles.”

 

“You...'some...”

 

“Mmm. So articulate.”

 

The jostling of Derek standing caused him to hiss. Which in turned caused just about everyone to jerk forward – hands outstretched and ready to catch him should Derek drop him. Now, normally that would offend him just a wee, but right now he had bigger fish to fry. They were on a time limit. At any second, these mannequins, and those suits of armor Scott mentioned, would pop right back up and probably be twice as pissed. So yeah. Time to split. He squinted a scowl at Scott, pointing at him with as much seriousness as he could with limp noodles for appendages.

 

“We...are leavin'. Riiiiiight nu'.”

 

There was a pause. Everyone just staring at him like he had risen from the dead. For a moment, it was evident that Scott wanted to argue. Because this was Scott. They had discovered a problem – he wanted to get rid of it. And he had made a promise to his mom. And in turn, in a way, made a promise to the mystery lady whose weirdo grandmother owned this place. Scott didn't break promises. Intentionally.

 

Thank whatever god existed out there for Kira.

 

She snapped her arm so eagerly high and so eagerly fast into the air, it should have flung away from where it was attached. Left zero space for anything as she squawked zealously, “I'll drive!”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come check out the event!!!
> 
> http://sterekweek-2018.tumblr.com/


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